Free The Saga of Colm the Slave by Mike Culpepper Page A

was heavy with
meat.” A trickle of saliva ran from Edgar’s mouth as he recalled
feeding on whatever scraps were allowed him.
    “So all of Ketil’s sheep are from the
one ram?”
    “Aye,” said Edgar, “And now this young
one’s doing all the tupping.”
    “Ah!” said Colm. “You think he needs to
breed out.”
    “Well, I believe Ketil thinks so. These
things happen when there is no new blood. Or when the animal is
cursed, of course.”
    “Of course.” Colm’s mind raced. “You
think he might trade this ram for mine?”
    Edgar raised guileless eyes. “Well, now,
that would be a good trade!” He shook his head. “You are a smart
one to come up with that idea.”
    Colm smiled. “Gwyneth, is there more
skyr? I see Edgar’s bowl is empty.”
    Laughing, Gwyneth went to fetch the old
man some more food.
    Colm had been surprised, when he
returned from raiding, to find Gwyneth at the Trollfarm. He had
thought she would stay at Bjorn’s steading. And, at first, Gwyneth
had lived there, working at chores around the place. But Gwyneth
finally determined to stay in her own house and she was a free
woman, free to go wherever she wished. She got Edgar to help at the
Trollfarm and live with her after the sheep came down from summer
pasture. There was not enough work at Bjorn’s farm during the
winter for all his slaves and Edgar staying at the Trollfarm meant
one less mouth for Bjorn to feed.
    So Colm was surprised to find Gwyneth
and the old man at the Trollfarm when he returned. He wasn’t
jealous. Edgar was far past the age to threaten any woman’s honor –
not that Gwyneth would have been blamed if she had taken a lover –
but he was also too old to defend a woman, as well.
    Colm had said so much to Gwyneth and she
blazed back at him, “You think I am defenceless? No man enters this
house unless I allow it!”
    Colm knew that Gwyneth had killed a man,
two winters past, something they never spoke about. And he spotted
the spear placed near the doorway, where the house was easiest to
defend. And he noted the spearhead, sharper than a dagger, placed
near Gwyneth’s workplace, where she spun what wool she had. Still,
he recalled the broken Frisian women taken as slaves and knew how
futile her defence would prove against a gang of raiders. But he
loved her when she showed spirit and decided not to say anything
that might cause her to feel weak.
    Gwyneth had spun the wool she gathered
from the three sheep they owned and traded the thread for a hen and
now the yard was full of chickens. There was a dog, too, from
somewhere, always ready to growl or bark a warning at any and every
intruder on the place, so Gwyneth named him Gagarr. Colm had been
surprised when he returned to the Trollfarm, to see it looking like
a real farm with life everywhere. Some hay had been harvested
though much of the crop had been left to rot in the cold rain of
autumn. Colm cut it down so that it would not choke the new grass
in the spring. He saw that far more had been harvested than old
Edgar could manage alone and Colm supposed that Gwyneth had picked
up men’s tools and done work that, strictly speaking, was forbidden
her. Not that women were ever punished for unlawfully doing men’s
work or handling weapons. It would take a courageous man to ever
bring such an action and risk the wrath of all women everywhere for
the rest of his days! So Colm said nothing about the matter. This
was another of those things that both knew but neither
mentioned.
    Ketil came by to examine Colm’s ram. The
animal gratified his owner by bleating and butting against the
fence that kept him from the ewes that he could smell. Ketil said,
“Well, he seems lively enough. I suppose he’s up to the job.”
    The ewes were well along in heat now and
Colm wanted to breed them soon, but he wished to avoid seeming
anxious or in a hurry. He thought Ketil was willing to trade even
up but if he sniffed out an advantage, he would take it and demand
that the deal be